The Warrior Games
by ForeverSilverfern
Summary: Watch as Darkpaw as she goes through the tragic events of the Warrior games. Sucky summery, yeah, I know.
1. Prologue: In Starclan

The clearing was silent. The cats seated around the pool were silent. They were just too horrified to speak.

Finally one of them, a tom with a bright orange pelt, broke the silence with a single word: "No."

The other cats looked up at him. Their faces showed agreement. "How can they have done this?" he continued. "I knew WatchClan was evil from the start, just like all of us did, but this…this is just crossing the line."

"I know, but Lionheart, what can we do about it?" meowed a blue-gray she-cat.

"It just doesn't make sense," murmured another she-cat, a black one. "Why would they just come to the lake and decide that they were the rulers?"

"I don't know, Hollyleaf," said the blue-gray she-cat. "But they won, and we have to accept that."

"No!" yowled a ginger tom. "We can't let them do this to our Clans! We have to do something, Bluestar!"

"Oh, Firestar," sighed Bluestar. "We can't. Not this time."

"But we have to!" wailed Firestar. "They'll destroy us all!"

"I know," said Bluestar wearily. She turned, so the next words she spoke were addressed to the cool night air. "We may not be able to stop it. But we will welcome those poor apprentices that will die each season gladly into our ranks."


	2. Chapter 1:The Reaping

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or Warriors and have never claimed that any of it is mine.**

* * *

I blink open my eyes. The sun reaches through the roof of the apprentices' den, waking us all up. It's packed full, not that that's a good thing here.

I don't feel Creampaw curled up next to me. She must have gone to the medicine den with Mom. She sleeps in the regular apprentices' den a lot, even though she's training to be a medicine cat. She's a scared little cat, though she wouldn't admit it if you offered her five mice. She's practically a kit. She's only been an apprentice for six sunrises, including this one.

Today is the day of the Reaping. My head spins at the thought of it, just like it has every time I have witnessed one and been lucky enough not to be picked. If you're picked, you almost certainly die.

Hunting always clears my head. I decide to do just that. I rise and pad out of the den and out the thorn tunnel.

I almost immediately spot a squirrel rooting around. I slide into the hunter's crouch. I take it slowly, paw step by paw step, until—

"Hiya, Darkpaw!"

The squirrel darts away. I whip around, teeth bared. "STORMYPAW!" I snarl.

Stormypaw's whiskers twitch. "That's me," he meows.

Stormypaw has been my best friend since I was barely an apprentice. He's almost a warrior by now, but WatchClan always makes your Clan leader drag out your apprenticehood until they can't possibly go another minute without making you a warrior. They just want the entertainment of seeing you die in the Warrior Games.

Of course, all of us apprentices think this, but Stormypaw is the only one who says this out loud. I always try to shut him up when we're around other cats. Saying it will just get your tongue clawed out, or worse.

We actually caught some stuff after that. We even picked some berries. Prey is so scarce around here that we we eat anything we can get our paws on.

"Oh!" says Stormypaw suddenly. "Happy Warrior Games! And may the odds—" He toss a berry high in the air with a flick of his tail.

I open my jaws and snap them shut on the berry. "—be EVER in your favor!" I finish. WatchClan cats have such strange accents.

I have to meet Mom and Creampaw for the Reaping. Poor little Creampaw's pelt is fluffed out so she looks twice her normal size. I gently smooth it with my tongue. But there's nothing I can do to help Mom.

Our mom, Softstep, is a medicine cat. She broke what's left of the warrior code by having us with our father, Pebblepool. Dad died when I was Darkkit and Creampaw didn't even exist. Dad shared Stormypaw's views on WatchClan.

I haven't explained the Warrior Games yet. Basically, WatchClan came in and established itself as the ruler of all the Clans. The other Clans got extremely mad and started an uprising. One of them, SkyClan, got completely killed off. WatchClan thought we needed more punishment still.

Then, some cat got the brilliant idea for the Warrior Games.

It's simple. Six apprentices, three toms and three she-cats, are picked at random. It doesn't matter if they're medicine cats or not. They get sent to an arena to struggle to survive and fight to the death. Only one apprentice survives. That apprentice's Clan gets treated like kittypets, showered with gifts.

The leader's daughter, Applepaw, sits with her white pelt gleaming. There's something else gleaming too.

I pad over to her. "Hi," I say. "What is that?"

"It's a pin," she explains. "You wear it in your fur. It's lucky. While you're wearing it, nothing bad can happen to you."

"Wow," I say, amazed. "It's beautiful."

"You can keep it if you like," she suggests.

I shake my head. "I couldn't."

But Applepaw insists. So that's why I walk over with the pin in my mouth and drop it in front of Creampaw. "If you wear this in your fur, nothing bad can happen to you."

I lead her out of the den to the center of camp. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highledge for the Reaping!"

That's the leader, Highstar. He only says that because it's tradition. Every cat that can possibly drag itself out of its den has to come. Or else.

He steps aside to let a kittypet-ish she-cat speak. She comes every Reaping. Her name is Swirltrickle. She's bright pink and extremely silly. "Welcome," she says in one of those WatchClan accents. "To the Reaping, and may the odds be ever in your favor! Ladies first?"

She puts a paw in a bowl that's obviously some kind of Twoleg thing. "Songpaw?" A little ginger she-cat steps up.

"Bluepaw?" Another ginger she-cat.

The next name, when it comes, knocks the breath right out of my lungs. Terror floods my body. No, it isn't Darkpaw.

"Creampaw?"


	3. Chapter 2:Those Fateful Words

I stagger and fall, my head filled with the voices of StarClan. Creampaw breaks the silence. Her tiny pawsteps echo through the camp. She had barely taken four steps when I screech the only word I remember.

"NO! No, no, no, no, NO!" My head feels like it's full of moss.  
And then I remember the other two words that matter in this situation, and I yowl them at the top of my voice:  
"I VOLUNTEER!"

It is Creampaw's turn to yowl, "NO! NOOOOOO! NO! DARKPAW, YOU CAN'T!"  
"

No," I whisper in her ear. "Don't you see? I stand a better chance than you! I'm older and know more, and you're a medicine cat and can barely kill a mouse."

Stormypaw takes the scruff of her neck in his teeth and begins to drag her back. "DARKPAW!"

Creampaw's voice echoes in my head as I slowly pad up to the Highledge.

"What's your name?" asks Swirltrickle sweetly.  
"Darkpaw," I mutter, looking away.  
"That was your sister, wasn't it?"  
"Yeah."  
"Wonderful! Now for the toms."

I look down at the Clan. They are all staring sympathetically up at me, Songpaw, and Bluepaw. Then someone sweeps their tail across the ground and waves it. The rest of the Clan copies them, dragging their tails across the ground and waving them in the air. It means goodbye. Like, forever. We do it when we sit vigil for a fallen warrior.

The toms are Brackenpaw, Robinpaw, and Grasspaw. Grasspaw. I recognize him…

***I fell into the mud. The rain soaked me, making my fur cling to my bones even more than it already did. Hungry. So hungry. I couldn't even find the strength to lift my head and yowl for help. My vision blurred at the edges. I was going to die, right there in front of the warriors' den. I could almost hear StarClan coming to collect me…  
I heard pawsteps. I looked up. I saw the pale tom watching me. He held a muddy, wet mouse. He looked over his shoulder, then tossed the mouse to me. I stared at it, hardly believing it was real. I took a bite. It seemed like the most delicious thing in the world. I lifted my head and rasped, "Thank you."***  
That's how I know Grasspaw.

He's the tom with the mouse.

He saved my life.

I try to calm myself. I'm a relatively healthy she-cat, halfway through my apprenticehood, excellent hunter. The odds are in my favor.  
Of course, the odds have not been very dependable of late.


	4. AUTHOR'S NOTE: VIN, PLEASE READ!

**Author's Note: PLEASE READ!  
**

**A/N:Hi... I know you're all SUPER mad at me right now for not updating in forever but the thing is that I'm don't want to keep going on with this story **

**until I finish SD. Please,please bare with me, the 1-3 people who are actually going to read this and the probably 1 person who will review. I'm really sorry**

** people but remember: THIS IS NOT ABANDONED! Hopefully in a few months...or years, I'll be able to finish this. I'm really sorry again, but i need to **

**finish SD before this comes in. So, sorry.**


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